This photo was taken from inside an old mill.  In its day, activity was alive and productivity was a daily offering.  The wheels were turning, the motors whirring, and other than an occasional glitch, there was a healthy routine happening from within.  People came from miles to cash in on the investments from this building.  Daily bread - from corn, flour, wheat and other grains perhaps.  Its workings were fed by water and nourished by incoming crops that had also drank from rain and sunshine.

The mill now stands silent.  Its windows are broken, its machines motionless.  The elements have invaded the space that once used to house life.  The walls are dark and shadows cover what used to be vibrant and illuminated.  

There was a sadness as I stood inside quiet walls.  I couldn't hear the stories, but the evidence of days gone by somehow brought a smile to my face.  There were still faint rays of light working their way through brokeness.  Ancient pieces of wheels and tools and tins created a tranquil diary of the structure's tales.  An old calendar on the wall reminded me that time continues and the story is not completed on one page.  It dawned on me that what had been progressive here was the beginnings of continuous progress beyond these fading walls.  I realized that this age had to occur before the next were possible and that the lessons learned here would carry over and bring additional understanding and hope to the years to come.  I looked beyond the jagged edges of glass still fixed into the wooden window frames - and there was color.